Part 46 (Patreon)

“It’s just so hard, sometimes...to not live up to expectations.” Rylenka said. “Or to be judged harshly because you’re a halfbreed,” Miri commiserated. “Exactly.” “Wait…look at that.” Miri pointed off in the distance. Rylenka followed her gaze and saw a keep in the distance, rising above the trees. “I suspect we can arrive before nightfall. Hot food and sleeping indoors!” “Mmmmhmmm, maybe even a bath,” Miri fantasized, before stopping herself and correcting, “We don’t know what we’ll meet there. The keep isn’t on any of our maps.”

The sun was low in the sky as they approached the keep. “Who goes there?” came a voice from the other side of the gate. Miri’s keen eyes searched for its source and found a short woman dressed in leathers and chain armor. She was carrying an average-sized sword that fit her diminutive form like a longsword.

Miri bit her lip nervously for a moment as she crafted her response. “I’m Miri and this is Rylenka. We’ve been on the road a long time, and are weary. We would greatly appreciate any hospitality you have to offer.”

“You’re heavily armored for travelers.” Miri tried to smile, “Well, you know, the roads are dangerous—“

“Let them in, Ingrid,” came a voice from inside the keep, “I’m sure they won’t be any trouble.”

The short woman nodded. “You can come in, but you’ll have to surrender your weapons.”

Rylenka took the axe from her back, keen to hand the heavy thing over after days of carrying it. But Miri hesitated. “We need to gold onto them.”

“Well, enjoy sleeping in the forest. We can’t have armed strangers running around. It kind of defeats the purpose of building a keep. I can assure you they’ll be returned when you leave.”

Miri’s exhaustion and desire to enjoy some modicum of civilization overcame her caution. She nodded assent, “Well, that’s a reasonable point.” Ingrid smiled and collected Miri’s sword and was nearly knocked back by the weight of Rylenka’s axe.

“Come inside,” Ingrid said, closing the gate behind them, “this forest gets ugly after dark.”

Through the keep’s door, they were brought down a corridor to a hall. It certainly wasn’t a hall of royal proportions, but most nobles would have been proud of such a space. Seated at a long banquet table was a wild-haired woman wearing an elegant black dress. Her dark hair and eyes gave her a serious look, belied by the charmingly curious expression on her face. She gestured to them to join her at the table. “Welcome to our home. I am Nimue, and you’ve already met Ingrid. You may join us for supper, but I haven’t caught your names, yet.”

“I’m Rylenka, and this is Miri,”the half-orc blurted out.

“Pleased to meet you,” Nimue said, “may I ask what brings you to our neck of the woods?”

Miri bit her lip nervously again, “We’re um, on our way to visit my cousin in Haywild.”

“Please, have a seat. If you don’t mind my saying, you’re unusual travelling companions, wouldn’t you agree, Ingrid?”

“A half elf in plate armor and a half orc in martial finery? I’d say so.”

“We have few visitors here. Please, indulge us with your tale. Where do you come from?  When did you meet? Are you a couple? Or sisters in arms perhaps?”

“We’re going to visit my cousin in Haywild,” Miri repeated, ignoring most of the barrage of questions.

“You mentioned, that,” said Ingrid, “Heywild is a small town. I don’t remember any elves…”

“The human side of my family,” Miri responded, hoping to save her lie. She had always been terrible at masking the truth of things.

Niumue frowned, “Well, they must be a generation or two past your cousins, given the long lives of elves…tell us the truth about what you’re doing here, who sent you.”

Miri attempted to stand up, but with a wave of her hand, Nimue caused her chair to slide back in, knocking her back into a sitting position. “Leaving so soon? I don’t think so. Tell us why you’re here.”

“I can’t…” Miri said, giving up on her lie but trying to hold out.

“Clearly Bleakmourn didn’t send a half-elf and a half orc,” Ingrid stated matter-of-factly as she locked the chamber door.

“No,” said Nimue, “You’re from the Realms…but the Orc clearly isn’t. Why did they send you? What’s your interest in us?”

“We have no interest other than a warm meal and a soft bed,” Miri said. Nimue glared at her, disbelieving.

“Look, I said you’d do the talking, but this is bullshit,” Rylenka said. “We’re on a quest….we’re looking for some kind of key….or gem or something…”

Miri buried her face in her palms. The young orc was endangering not just herself and her companion, but the realms, and her tribe.

“Keystone, that’s it.” Rylenka continued.

With the mention of the word, Ingrid shot Nimue a knowing glance.

“Now, was that so hard?” Nimue said.

“Why the hell are you so paranoid?” Rylenka asked.

“Well, you told us why you’re here, I think we owe you some information in return. We had to flee our homeland, because of a forbidden love.” Ingrid spoke up, “You see, my mom raised me by herself, dad left us, she said. But as I grew up, people suspected something. Then one day, inquisitors came. They wanted a sample of blood. I tried to flee, but they caught me. When it was verified that I was part halfling, they executed my mother on the spot, and I was to be executed in a public ceremony, so the common folk knew what became of abominations like me. But what they didn’t know is that some time ago, I had become close to a talented mage, and Nimue here sacrificed her wealth, position and prospects to save me. We fled to this keep, abandoned since the days of the troubles, and with her magic and my labor, made it a place worth staying.”

Miri was struck visibly when she realized that Rylenka had revealed their mission to people from Bleakmourne. “So, you live in exile? She asked meekly.”

Nimue sighed, “Quite so, but Ingrid was worth it.”

Rylenka looked down, “I guess half-breeds have it bad all over.”

Ingrid nodded, “As much as they hate halflings, they hate me worse, because I’m a sign that we’re not so different. I’m a threat to their concept of order.”

Miri, concerned, said, “Well, that’s a tale of woe. Now that we understand each other, we shan’t trouble you any longer. Let’s go, Rylenka.”

“But we just got here.”

Nimue smiled, “You should listen to your friend. Ingrid can prepare a warm bath, and we have all sorts of goodies and sweetmeats to nourish you.”

Miri stood up, “We really must be going.” Her chair didn’t knock her down this time, but Nimue’s expression was implacable. “I insist you stay, preferably as my honored guests.”

The half-elf put a hand on her companion’s shoulder, “Come on, we’re leaving.”

Rylenka reluctantly stood up.

“Or…if you insist, as prisoners!” Nimue added, waving her hand, and force pinned the two women to the wall behind them.

“I was enjoying our little chat, why did you have to go and spoil things?”

“Well,” said Ingrid, “Perhaps they can provide us some entertainment.”

“We can’t harm them, darling. The two of them and the information they carry would go quite a ways to restoring some of my reputation, and property.”

“But we’re not going back to Bleakmourne, are we?”

“Of course not, darling, I wouldn’t put you in harm’s way.”

“Let us go now, or you’ll regret it!”

“Darling the time for that has long passed, and…watching you struggle to move at all, I somehow think I have the upper hand.”

“I won’t harm them,” Ingrid said, “but perhaps we can…have a peek?”

Nimue smiled. “I have an idea…let’s play truth or strip. You ask the first question.”

Ingrid looked at Rylenka. “How do you know this half-elf?”

“She was found on my clan’s land, bathing in the river; she was brought to my mother’s longhouse for judgement." Ingrid nodded, “Too weird to not be real,” your turn.

Nimue looked at Miryala, “Who sent you on a quest for the keystone?”

The half-elf remained silent. “Couldn’t even be bothered to think up a lie. Sad,” said Niumue as she waved her hand and Miryala’s gauntlets, pauldrons, and breastplate fell to the floor.

“Who is your mother?” Ingrid asked.

“Lazgar, chief of the Shellmaw.” Ingrid frowned, disappointed. “I’m going to have to start asking harder questions.”

“Why do you need this keystone?” Nimue asked. She was greeted with silence. “I make the rules here, we don’t have to stick with one piece.” Miryala’s greaves, thigh armor, and chain leggings crashed to the floor at once. “Pink lace…quite the underwear for a questing knight. I suspected you were a pampered city mercenary. Let me guess, a noble house guard from the realms. Wait…don’t tell me. I’ll drag the information out of you slowly.”